


kiddo

by m_feys



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Discussions of death, F/M, Gen, One-Shot, Peter Has Depression, Peter-centric, Trauma, a lot about death really, angst maybe, trans peter b parker, why peter b 'doesnt like kids'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 07:44:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17341382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_feys/pseuds/m_feys
Summary: "She wanted kids and… it scared me. I’m pretty sure I broke her heart."





	kiddo

**Author's Note:**

> having quotes as the summary may be my new favorite thing, huh
> 
> Edit: ok, after having impulse posted this on no hours of sleep I've come back a few hours later with slightly fresher eyes and found that its ok typo wise, let me know if u spot a mistake!

Peter B. Parker always loved kids. He'd saved a lot of people in his days. And when you've held a freaked out child in your arms enough times, you learn the best ways to calm them down. Singing something soft and slow usually did the trick. And they had bright chubby faces. And they laughed at his jokes. And they were so _small_. And all he wanted was to protect them. To save them.

Peter _Ben_ Parker, a name he'd picked out for himself (he was pretty proud of that fact), with his middle name chosen for his uncle. Always wondered if he could ever have some kid call him Uncle.  
He could never resist booping babies on their cute little noses after they were returned to the arms of their parents. He would always ruffle a kid’s hair, or kneel down to tell them he was proud of how brave they were, while they looked up at him in tears.  
He'd wondered if someday there'd be a kid who he could get to call him Uncle Peter, or maybe even Uncle Ben, even as much as hearing that might hurt. But, no, no, that couldn't happen. Not only because neither he nor MJ had any siblings. No.

When Mary had murmured, almost like she was talking to herself, "maybe it would be nice to have kids."  
It was easy to see what made her think of it. There was a couple a few feet away, they had their little toddler made of soft tissue, lots of cartilage, developing bones, and _pure_ joy, raised in the air, laughing delightedly together. Peter froze.

"That's a bad idea," he'd muttered back. Later, she'd assured him she'd love to adopt, too, if that was what worried him. But, no, that wasn't it. He couldn't put into words what worried him, what made him so vehemently against the idea. He didn't want to voice it. Didn't want to say out loud that maybe one day he wouldn't get back up. As much as the thought had crossed his mind over the years.

So every time she brought it up he told her kids were too loud. They were too much work, too much money. He fought and pleaded with her, that _no_ , children were _not_ worth it.  
Kids were not worth all the joy, and pain, and love, and pride, and hope, and wonder. Laughter, tickles, cuddles after nightmares, warm milk and sweet dreams. Hard times and tears and the _loss_. It couldn't be worth _that_. But Peter B. Parker had always _loved_ kids. But he could never, ever, have them. So he made himself hate them.  
It was so easy to tell himself a child would only get on his nerves; that he could never be a good father to them. It was _so_ easy to tell himself that was the only reason he couldn't bring himself to look his wife in the eye when she asked him, _why, why, why?_

He might not get back up again. He knew it, deep, deep, at the very core of his being, he knew. He saw death, every day. Constant reminder.  
And he could remember the look on his Aunt and Uncle's faces when they told him his parents wouldn't be coming back through that door. And he remembered the way Ben choked on his own blood as he clutched Peter's hand loosely and struggled out his last words. He remembered the look on Aunt May's face.  
Someday, he wouldn't get back up again. And some _kid_ would be left behind.  
_Peter_ had been that kid. Fuck, he still was just somebody's kid, whose parents had all died and left him to figure out the rest. He'd been that kid who's dad didn't get back up again and he could _not_ bring himself to do that to some other kid. _His_ kid.

But he had never said all that to Mary Jane. That was how he got by in his day to day, after all. He pretended she would never have to have that awful heartbroken look Aunt May had. That grief-stricken blankness. No, he never said that to her. Never told her what _really_ stopped him.

And she could tell he was hiding from her, of course, she could _always_ tell. And he had broken her heart anyway. And she left. And he was alone again.  
And so he would tell himself not having loved and lost, even when _he_ had, was worth it. That pain. Was worth it. And he believed it.

Until some kid from another universe had prodded at his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always appreciated, even if i dont reply <3 (but i might)


End file.
